The Rabbit and the Fox
by ChibiCHICKENluver
Summary: She was willing and much too addictive, and he was sure that he wouldn't be satisfied until he consumed her entirely. /ItaSaku/


**Title:** The rabbit and the fox  
**Summary**: She was willing and much too addictive, and he was sure that he wouldn't be satisfied until he consumed her entirely. /ItaSaku/  
**Disclaimer**: I do not own Naruto.

**Notes1**: I don't know what's happening with my writing style lately. I'm sorry.

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She's 15 and naïve and so, so young. She looks nervous; she looks like she knows she could get caught any moment even though she's hundreds of miles from home and her genjutsu is impressive for a Chuunin. But that doesn't stop her delicate, short stride from taking her to the counter where a shady-looking bartender is much too eager to take her order.

She doesn't notice him right away. Foolish, he thinks, given their proximity.

There's something wild and unguarded in the depths of her green eyes – something that sparks his interest the moment she sits down beside him.

Something that holds his interest as he fucks her into the wall of his motel room.

He doesn't know how it happened exactly: one moment he's mumbling under his breath irrelevant words that make her tense up like a scared, little rabbit under the predatory gaze of a fox, and the next thing he remembers, she's wrapping lithe arms around his neck and scraping short nails into the skin of his shoulders.

While it's true that she's technically an enemy shinobi and should have been eliminated the moment he noticed her short, petal hair, she is also a virgin and if there's one thing for certain, it's that Uchiha Itachi is a skilled lover, and above that, a gentleman.

So when he makes her climax not once, but twice, and is completely and utterly spent, he doesn't not kill her, nor does he put her into a painful, illusionary world. Instead, he puts her onto the mattress gently and lays beside her, still and alert, until her erratic breathing dies down to the soft lull of peaceful sleep.

It's a pity, he thinks, that someone he's heard so much about – a skilled medic and the second-coming of the fifth Hokage and legendary Sanin Tsunade herself – will meet her end making the worst of decisions.

But fortunately for the pink-haired Konohagakure kunoichi, he was not to be her killer.

By the time the sun was peaking through the slightly drawn curtains and she stirred from her slumber, he was gone and her clothes were neatly folded in his place.

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She's sixteen and quite powerful and still naïve.

Itachi had a reason for seeking her out –he rarely does anything without thinking it through – but that reasoning eludes him when she's on top of him, rolling her hips while he's inside of her, hands like vices with a bruising grip on her thighs.

"Itachi," She gasps his name and shudders above him when a well-aimed thrust hits a particularly sensitive spot.

Something about Sasori, he remembers suddenly. That's why he's there; in her bedroom, in the village where he's seen as a bloodthirsty criminal, in her delicious, wet heat. She killed Sasori and revived the Kazekage and his brother.

She had been flying under his radar for far too long – still on his mind but in the very recesses. Sasori never returns and Deidara says something about a pink-haired bitch from Konoha and it's like he never left the hotel room. When he's needed near the border of Fire Country anyway, she comes to mind.

And she comes then too, snapping him out of his hazy thoughts. Her fluttering tightness has him releasing inside of her a few moments later; he relishes in the feeling of her weight melting on top of him after he slides out and she stops trembling.

She doesn't sleep afterward, like their first meeting. Instead she watches him with dusty, emerald eyes as separates his clothes from hers and gets dressed. He spares her a glance every few moments, feeling no guilt for the small things he notices: angry, red marks on her neck, bruises on her arms. She's a medic, she can handle it herself.

"I'll be back," he tells her as he shrugs on his cloak.

It was a foreign thought; the idea of returning to someone. Of having someone to return to.

He's pulling on his boots, seated on the edge of her bed, when strong legs circle his waist and a very naked chest presses against his back. Her hands start working wonders on the knots in his shoulders and for a moment, he lets his guard slip.

"You've kept me waiting an entire year, you know." She begins playfully. "Who's to say the next time you come around I won't be seeing someone else, hm?" He's unsure what she's trying to accomplish with her teasing, but whatever it is, she's accomplished it.

His thumbs find the insides of her knees, swirling slight patterns across her skin until she thrashes and he finds that she's very ticklish.

She blinks and he's flipped them, his face hovering over hers. "Well then," he murmurs, lips brushing against hers before tracing her jaw line and finding a path along her collarbone, to the valley between her breasts. "I suppose I should visit you soon, rabbit."

His tongue laves her bellybutton, and she can feel his smile against the skin of her hip. He kisses a protruding bone and she gives a smile in return.

He doesn't know what they have; _why he wants to keep coming back_, but when his tongue dips lower and she's writhing in pleasure beneath him, he's not too sure he gives a damn.

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She knew exactly who she was dealing with.

The brother of her former teammate and the murderer of innocent lives; the only man she had ever loved had put his faith in him and he in turn massacred his family. Sasuke had gone crazy – turned to darkness – to get his revenge on that man and she had slept with him. Twice, now.

And yet she felt no regret.

She knows that makes her a terrible person, but she reasons that there are worse things.

Tsunade calls her into her office. Shizune looks nervous and the fists of the newly returned Naruto –dear, sweet Naruto – are clenched; his knuckles white.

Sasuke, it seems, under the guidance of Orochimaru, has wiped out an entire village under the snake's command. The same boy that saved them both on more than one occasion, now everything he fought so hard against; now the exact same thing that drove him to insanity.

The two remaining members of team seven leave the tower with the prospect of a new team in mind. Yes, she thinks, casting a glance at the blonde beside her.

There are worse things, indeed.

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They meet again a few months later.

She's on a mission with the blonde jinchuuriki and 2 new teammates – a brunette and a blank-faced boy with black hair – when he spots her through the trees thick foliage.

He almost misses her. His Sharingan eyes have been hyperaware of even the darkest shade of pink for the past year that he's almost too used to it to look. But then he senses the familiar warmth of her chakra and he almost loses his footing. Normally, there would be nothing stopping him from staking out until an opportunity rises where she's alone. (What his mind comes up with then is enough to make him pause momentarily.)

His partner eyes him wearily. Understandable, he thinks. It's not like Uchiha Itachi to be distracted.

He can hear her laughter, if he listens. He's not terribly bothered by the shark-man's presence usually, but he finds that this is not one of those times.

And then the blue-skinned nin picks up on the faint, sloppily concealed chakra signatures and a grin splits his face, revealing several rows of sharp teeth. "Whaddaya say, wanna give these kiddies a scare?"

Itachi's red eyes shift to Kisame. "Leader said we are to conceal ourselves."

Instead, he summons an ordinary crow and sends it off with silent instructions to keep tabs on the pinkette. At least until he can get a moment away from his partner. It caws once as it flies away, and Kisame shakes his head.

He will never understand Uchihas'.

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2 hours later Itachi finds himself watching her from high in the trees, lounging on a tree branch. She stumbles away from her team, laughing at something the artist has said on her way to the small stream a short distance away from their campsite. A quick genjutsu ensures they will be safe from intruders and he jumps down, audibly landing a few yards behind her.

"Naruto, what have I told you about peakin-"

The playful look melts off her face faster than her hands are all over him, her mouth over his.

"Itachi," she presses a kiss to the column of his throat. "I missed you, I- "

"I know, my pet." He silences her with the removal of her clothing and his pulsing need pushing inside of her. His lips find her temple. "My little rabbit."

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There's a look in Kisame's eyes when he returns to their make-shift campsite; one that tells Itachi his partner is acutely aware of where he's been for the past hour. Not that he's done much to hide it – he's never been one to fuss over whatever marks Sakura leaves over his body.

There's nothing but silence when Itachi sits down across the fire, and this lasts until the orange flames are nothing but cooling embers.

He speaks so suddenly that, if Itachi were a different man, he would have jumped in surprise.

"I hope it was the girl."

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She's still sixteen when they meet for the fourth time and again, he's stealing into her room in the dead of night with blood soaking his clothing and dripping onto the wood floor of her bedroom.

When she doesn't immediately stir, he finds himself shaking his head. Perhaps he should convince her to stay within the safe walls of her village, he thinks. Had she been anywhere else where an enemy shinobi could have been lurking, she would have been dead.

Then again, the walls of her village no longer seem very safe, as that's exactly what he is.

He sets his kunai pouch down onto her bedside table, mindful of the picture frame. His eyes linger on the face of his younger brother and he wants to frown, but he hears her stirring at the clink of metal hitting wood, and she's once again his focus.

"…'tachi?" She rolls onto her stomach, little hands rubbing green eyes and Itachi's heart swells for a second before he's reminded of the wounds decorating his torso.

Her years under the Hokage's tutelage have not been wasted as she's on her feet in seconds, leading him down the hall, past her parents' bedroom (an unexplainable thrill runs through Itachi's body at this realization) and into her small, pink bathroom.

She doesn't ask and he doesn't elaborate – just sits on her bathroom counter as she removes his clothes and heals him with calm, glowing hands.

"You should be more careful," she murmurs after a while.

He doesn't respond, but he brings a strong, scarred hand up to her red-dusted cheeks and swipes his thumb across the purplish bruising under her green eyes.

Her gaze, which had been previously focused on her work, traveled up his chiseled body to meet the red depths of his Sharingan. There's something stirring in those depths; something Sakura can't quite place. She pushes her childish thoughts aside and steps back to give him room. He slides down from his perch, and under the fluorescents of her bathroom light, Sakura can see how filthy he really is.

There's dirt where she's never imagined he'd allow (his cleanliness was certainly something she took for granted) and his usually gorgeous, black hair was clumped together with dirt and sweat and blood that, upon further inspection, wasn't his.

Without a word she pointed to the bathtub in the corner, and off went the bottom half of his clothes as he turned on the water to a suitable temperature and waited for the tub to fill.

Sakura made herself comfortable where he previously sat; content to keep watch while he washed himself, but it was obvious he had other intentions when he reached out for her hand.

Cautiously, she accepted and was pulled into his embrace.

Itachi took his time with her; undressing her, calculating every contrasting emotion that flickered in those wild eyes of hers. They widened when he reached for her nightshirt, shifty when he took it off –like she had anything to be self conscious of. Hooded and hazy when he pressed his body to hers, nearly black in color when he lifted her onto his hips and stepped into the water.

It was a tight fit at first, but when she settled on top of him – his hips trapped beneath her legs – it was forgotten.

He would be lying if he said he wasn't expecting the usual; an aggressive quickie followed by sleep, and the idea of having sex in a bath _definitely_ had its appeal, so when she reached behind his head and she didn't fist a hand in his hair, he cocked an eyebrow. Instead, with a shy smile, she pulled into his view a bottle of pleasant-smelling shampoo.

He was still as she lathered the suds through his hair; even stiller as she dunked his head under the water three…four times, to rinse it out.

Sakura didn't want to admit it, but something felt different. She had noticed it immediately when he touched her cheek before; it felt different. And even now, with her very naked body pressing against his, he made no move to _make_ a move, and it had Sakura wondering if he really was just a gentleman, or perhaps this _wasn't _all he came to her for.

_Bad train of thought_, she decided, and wrapped her arms around his neck, fingers toying with the clean strands of his ebony hair.

He must have sensed her change in mood, because he was kissing her and sliding fingers inside of her before she had time to gasp out his name. Which she did anyway.

"Itachi," she purred, biting down on whatever she could – his collarbone.

He responded with a barely suppressed groan and she adjusted herself easily to accommodate his thick length inside of her. His strong arms wrap around her small torso, and Sakura uses this as a diversion; distracting herself from the things she's too afraid to feel.

She knows the price of loving an Uchiha all too well.

When they're finally done – Sakura insisted they take a shower and clean themselves properly, this time – they sneak into her bedroom and collapse onto her bed, Itachi pulling her close enough to his body that their legs tangle and noses touch.

She watches him through heavy-lidded eyes, words escaping her mouth before she has time to stop them.

"Why do you keep coming back?"

He doesn't respond for a moment and when his dark eyes close and he makes no sign of moving, Sakura thinks that maybe he's fallen asleep.

Just as she's about to give up and succumb to sleep herself, she feels his words rumbling through his chest, sending vibrations through her front.

"A fox will keep hunting even when full."

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She's seventeen nearly a year later, no longer a child and disguised as a courtesan.

He picks up on her calm chakra immediately and when it spikes he knows she picks up on his as well. She's dressed in an expensive-looking kimono and has a small, flower trinket in her pink hair. It makes a bell sound every time she steals a look at him as he kneels across from her and his client; her target. Her usually bright, jade eyes are blown into black circles with green rings the moment he sits down and his trained senses pick up on her arousal painfully fast.

He can smell her want and when she bites her lip, he can taste her desires.

The evening goes by quickly. She serves them tea and presses her leg against his when they're close enough for contact. He's debating whether or not to eliminate his client then and there, money be damned, and fuck her against the hard floor, but he manages to control himself, but just barely. His client and her target is obviously far more interested in her than him, and the moment they come to an agreement, his client is excusing himself and guiding Sakura with a hand on her lower back out of the room.

He knows he has to stop them. It had absolutely nothing to do with the way that greasy man was groping her when he found them in the hallway. He can't have her killing his paycheck, and that's exactly what he tells himself as he slices the man's head clean off.

And when he tells her, she stares at the dead body and pools of blood on the floor, mention something about counter-productivity and his asinine reasoning before he's clawing at the ties of her kimono.

He kicks open the first door he can find and is almost put off by the fact that it's a supply closet, but the moment his precious little rabbit gets onto her knees, his thought process nearly turns into ash. Nearly, but not quite.

He can't even enjoy her talented tongue properly when thoughts of another man touching what is rightfully his are burning into his mind, and he remedies that by pulling her up sliding his fingers against her, into her.

He has no idea what he's growling into her ear, or what she's whimpering in response, but it's enough to make her beg for him, and he'd never intentionally disappoint her. He sets her on a shelf after he pushes everything on it to the floor and fucks her until he _knows_ she can't see straight.

"You are _mine_," he repeats over and over again, even when she comes. "_You are mine, you are mine, you are mine_." He doesn't falter or slow, doesn't stop saying those words until she's absently repeating them like a mantra. "I'm yours," she sobs. Her second release is so near she can feel it with every thrust and every cant of his hips has her screaming into the salty skin of his neck.

"Sakura," he purrs, and her name on his lips for the first time coupled with the long fingers rubbing over her pearl has her crying out – with him not far behind.

He carries her up to the room he purchased for the night with the intention of getting some rest before they part ways in the morning, like they always do, but the second he closes the door, she's wide awake and staring at him; kiss-swollen lips parted, eyes wide.

"What has this turned into?"

He wishes he knew.

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She's eighteen and they don't really have a lot of time so he hurries her into the nearest alleyway and presses her back into the stone wall of the building behind her.

She should be resting, she knows. Her and her team have a big day ahead of them; confronting the renegade Sasuke – who's showing no signs of stopping the terrible, downward-spiraling life he's leading.

Instead, the smallest trace of him – a black feather slipped carefully under her pillow at the motel – had her sneaking out the window well past midnight, leaving a snoring, oblivious Naruto behind. She'd wandered the streets cautiously for not even five minutes when he was behind her, catching her elbow and pulling her back into his chest.

"Little rabbit," he murmurs into her ear as he pushes his hips against hers.

He's aggravated tonight; she can tell by the way he pulls her hair and bites down on her a bit too hard. They've only fucked a handful of times, but Sakura's hypersensitive to the nin inside of her. She knows exactly what he wants when he wants it – a gift she wish extended to his younger brother, so she could get his ass home so he'd stop fucking up everyone's life – and right now he wants her just as needy as he is.

And she is.

"Itachi," she whines, angling her hips to meet his, leading one of his hands to a burning, binding-covered breast. "Faster, please."

He doesn't need to be told twice, and he has her reaching her peak in less than a minute.

They crash at his hotel room, where they shower together and afterward she works the kinks out of his back while he's dozing off, face down on the creaky mattress, in a much better mood than he was just an hour ago.

"You know," she begins. "If I knew when I was 15 that walking into that civilian bar would lead me here, I wouldn't have wasted the 20 minutes I spent pacing the entrance convincing myself to go in."

He chuckles under her, the vibrations in his spine making her smile. "You're happy, then?"

She nods, even though he can't see it, and feels like crying. "Of course I'm happy." She abandons her current task and lies down on top of him, folding her arms on top of his. Her fingertips end half-way down his forearms, and her toes brush the smooth muscles of his calves.

"Are you happy?"

She doesn't know what answer she's expecting. It is Uchiha Itachi she's dealing with, after all; possibly the most unpredictable man in the 5 nations – and possibly the most dangerous, although Sakura tends to forget that sometimes.

So when he gives her the faintest smile of his own and responds with a deep, "I am content, Rabbit," she doesn't know how to react other than to kiss the smile off of his lips. Again and again.

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She is nineteen and an accomplished medic with battle-scars from a filthy war and hands that heal.

Hands that heal and protect and keep safe.

Not like his own hands; the only thing his hands have known is killing and failing to heal and failing to protect and failing to keep safe. Sasuke…his little…

Itachi coughs violently against his will; a body-rattling, shattering, all-around unpleasant experience that leaves blood spilling from his lips and no air in his lungs. Through years of careful planning, the raven-haired rogue came to terms with the fact that he was indeed going to die. If not from his brother, then from the sickness inside him.

How did this happen?

He and Sakura…they'd both been on the same mission; stop Sasuke at all costs (those his was more of a personal assignment, and not really affiliated with the falling-apart Akatsuki organization) and in the chaos around them, she'd managed to get separated from her team and as soon as he picked up on her powerful-yet-fragile presence, he was by her side instantly.

When it started to pour they managed to find shelter in a make-shift cave, where they could rest until either the rain stopped, or morning came; whichever came first.

Of course, the rain hadn't stopped when they headed out in separate directions, parting with a passionate kiss and meaningful promises of finding each other when it was all over and starting a family and being happy.

_Empty promises_, he realizes now.

A choked sob escapes the kneeling form above him and Itachi has to squint to see through the blurriness he's come to accept as his own vision. He can see a smudge of pink, and vaguely he recognizes that there is perhaps, no one else he'd see before he died.

He can feel her healing hands over his abdomen, over his chest; frantic and searching.

"I-Itachi! Sasuke-kun, h-he's…that man, Madara, h-he killed him! H-he killed Sasuke…"

"I know, rabbit," Itachi soothes softly, surprised his voice is functioning. His hand clasps hers, stilling her healing movements and just like that, the ache is sweeping through his body again.

It feels too much like goodbye to Sakura, and she wants to shake her hand away from his, but instead, bends down and kisses each knuckle. Tears unintentionally drip down onto the calluses of his fingers, and it's a strange thing for Itachi to pick up on, but he does. "Yo-you can't die. I love you so much!"

"I know," _I love you too_.

"Itachi please," She begs as red eyes slide shut. "I'm yours." The ragged rise and fall of his chest stops and everything Sakura has come to know over the past 4 years crumbles around her.

Silence is left in its wake.

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She's 22 and Konoha's top medic and the mother of one beautiful little girl…

A resounding crash echoes throughout the entire first floor of the Uchiha compound.

…and one mischievous little boy.

"Oinari! What have I told you about bothering Hokage-sama while he's working?" She dries the last of the rice bowls before setting them on the counter. She casts a glance out the window. While it was nothing compared to her favorite season, spring, fall was among one of the most beautiful times in Konoha. The distinct sound of crows cawing in the distance is silenced when she slides the kitchen window shut, feeling the autumn chill seep into her bones quickly.

"Sakura-chan, save me!"

Green eyes are narrowed into slits as her lithe frame bustles out of the kitchen and into the living-room, where her blonde haired teammate is buried underneath two squirming bodies.

Two obviously Uchiha, squirming bodies.

The dark eyes of her daughter meet hers apologetically, before the 3-year old mastermind retreats back to the cool leather of the couch, immediately reoccupied with the coloring pages that previously had her attention.

Her son, however, the spitting image of her deceased teammate, continues to wrestle the Hokage, small hands gripped in blonde hair, playfully tugging.

"Sakura-chan," Naruto gasps, hand outstretched towards the (only slightly) amused Kunoichi. "Help me!"

"Naruto, I'm letting you do your work in my house only because you don't like being accessible for more paperwork at the tower." She pinches the bridge of her nose. "Tell me again why you're not at your own house?"

"Because, Sakura-chan!" The Rokudaime whines, making Usagi 'aw' in pity. "Hinata-chan is pregnant and you know how you women get when you're like that!"

One pink eyebrow is raised challengingly. "Oh? How do we get?"

"Absolutely lovely, right, Oinari?"

"Right!"

Sakura only taps her foot in response.

Naruto grins sheepishly. "Alright, alright, Sakura-chan, I'm going." He parts ways with the children and meets his teammate at the front door. The arm that isn't holding paperwork wraps around her small shoulders, and a light kiss is pressed to the top of her head. "You've done a beautiful job."

Sakura smiles for a moment as he disappears down the cobblestone path of the Uchiha compound, nostalgic for simpler times, before another crash echoes through her home.

"Usagi," she calls, passing through the kitchen on her way to the sitting room. "Last time I blamed your brother when it was _you_ that broke the lamp. If you broke another one, so help me…" She shivers at the cool autumn breeze, glancing over at the open window. The sun was just beginning to set, and maybe if she was lucky, and nothing was too damaged, she could take the twins over to the park by the academy before it got too dark outside.

She took another step before she paused. Unless that little sneak Oinari was at it again, she was convinced she had shut that window earlier…

A shrill scream from her daughter makes Sakura's blood run cold.

With speed she hadn't known she possessed, even in her prime as a kunoichi, Sakura nearly took out the wall trying to bring herself closer to her children. Foreign feeling chakra scalpels extend from her fingertips as if she'd never left the ninja business, and the moment she spots the tall, hooded figure, she lunges.

They dodge easily, or rather, duck, which is almost ideal for Sakura as she lands between the intruder and her children. Seeing her babies, the brave Oinari guarding his trembling sister, make a tidal-wave of relief and feral-like protectiveness wash through Sakura simultaneously.

She turns to her opponent.

He's taller and broader than her (not particularly hard to accomplish), but nothing she hadn't handled before, and with the thought of her family's near harm fresh on her mind, she could have taken down someone three times his size.

"What do you want?" She growls, the scalpels digging into her palm as the result of clenched fists reminding her not to lose her temper.

When he made no move to answer, Sakura made to charge.

All at once the cloak falls away and three words pass into his lips and into her ears.

"My little rabbit."

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_Itachi…_

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**Notes2**: Cliché ending, I know. I'm sorry. Inari is a Japanese fox spirit, and Usagi is the Japanese name for rabbit. Do you see what I did there? Also, review, I like those.

**Notes3**: I have an instagram where you can see pictures of me being ugly and snapshots of my beautiful, friendless life: swallowpeoplewhole.


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